


Summer Nights

by SaintEpithet



Series: Uncharted Horizons [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Asshai, Books, Culinary Uplifting, Cyvasse, Drowned God, Fictional Religion & Theology, Fishing, Foreshadowing, Gen, Humor, Ironborn (ASoIaF), Knight, Magic, Minor Gilly/Samwell Tarly, Missing Scenes, Random & Short, Reddit Prompts, Shadow Lands (ASoIaF), Shadowbinder (ASoIaF), Stormlands (Westeros), The Arbor, The North (Westeros), Wine, Witchcraft, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 7,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintEpithet/pseuds/SaintEpithet
Summary: Collection of drabbles and short oneshots, mostly about the cast of Summer Storm (both canon and original characters). Characters are listed in chapter titles for easier navigation. Reddit Prompts - Magical Minifics (May).





	1. May 1 - Something To Believe In (Thoros, Beric & Leiff)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nininoone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nininoone/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 1: Your character believes in magic! Or maybe they don’t and have a pretty good reason why. Show us what your character believes or doesn’t believe. (400 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set somewhen before chapter 10 of Summer Storm, before reaching Castle Black.

Leiff lead the way through the surprisingly busy crowd in the large cellar toward an area that served as a tavern. People sat around rickety, round tables, chatted and enjoyed ale and wine. Most of them appeared to be locals, though three men stood out among them. Over the back of their chairs hung black cloaks lined with thick fur; Sworn Brothers of the Night's Watch seeking shelter and diversion from their cold post at Castle Black.  
  
Mole's Town had looked deserted when the group had arrived not long after sunset, the last rags of orange and purple still painting the sky. The reason was quickly revealed once Leiff opened the door to a stairwell, leading down to the caverns the village owed its name to. The locals gathered here when the night came with its cold, shared drinks and stories, haggled with merchants or employed the services of less reputable women.  
  
Once they had found a free table and sat down on the squeaking chairs, Leiff nodded to the long, wooden bar. "The owner of the inn works the counter," he explained. "Do you want me to rent rooms for the night, my lord? It's early and I don't see many visitors. We may be in luck and some of the warmer rooms underground are unoccupied."  
  
Beric shook his head, but he reached for his purse and took some coins from it. "I prefer the rooms upstairs. Must be because I'm used to the mountains. As long as there's a fireplace, I doubt we'll be freezing."  
  
"As you wish, my lord." Leiff took the money and made his way to the bar and Beric looked over to Thoros.  
  
"If it really gets too cold up there, I trust you can speak to your god about making the fire burn hotter."  
  
"You have more faith than I do," Thoros gave back with a chuckle. "I don't think creatures of fables and myths can do a thing about fires."  
  
Beric skeptically regarded him from the side. "I heard you claim you saw visions in a brazier on the tourney in White Harbor. Who do you think sends them if not your god?"  
  
"That god over there." Thoros laughed and pointed to a corner, stacked to the ceiling with crates and barrels of wine. "Try it. If you just drink enough of it, you see visions and omens in braziers as well."


	2. May 2 - Sea Dragon (Thoros & Beric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2: Floating. Flying. Levitating. Your character experiences the joy—or terror—of their feet leaving the ground. (100 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set before chapter 18 of Summer Storm, on board of the Golden Harvest.

"Absolutely not."  
  
Thoros got up from the bench, grabbed his wine and retreated into the hammock.  
  
"Do you think the Greyjoys will be offended by your presence? It's been a decade since you've been at Pyke." Beric glanced over the abandoned cyvasse game, then looked up to Thoros.  
  
"And I can go another decade without those dreadful, slippery bridges." Thoros glared to the cabin's window, to the spray of the raging ocean outside.  
  
"You said you'd be my dragon," Beric replied. "Dragons don't worry about shaky bridges."  
  
Thoros sighed. "I should have used a different metaphor. My answer is 'no'."


	3. May 3 - Rolling Thunder (Lord Ossyn Dondarrion & Maester Jeon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 3: Thursdays. I never could get the hang of Thursdays. For your characters, this Thursday is exceptionally strange because they have woken up with powers/abilities they didn’t have--or didn't know they had--before. (200 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set somewhen before chapter 28 of Summer Storm, after Lord Ossyn's return from Essos. What an awkward prompt for a universe that has no named weekdays.

"I must be a natural. It's like a thunder storm woke long forgotten knowledge in me."  
  
Lord Ossyn glanced to the storm raging outside the solar's window; this season brought harsh weather to the Red Mountains, doing justice to the realm's name. He turned back to the cyvasse board and, after brief consideration, moved his black Dragon piece one field toward his opponent's white Heavy Horse.  
  
"Not to diminish your talent," Maester Jeon gave back. "But warfare was always my weakest subject. You, on the other hand, have fought in wars and seen real battles while I sat in the Citadel's tower and read through old books."  
  
"This is not a game of warfare." Lord Ossyn watched the maester study the pieces with a thoughtful expression. "It's a game of strategy, played by politicians in Dorne and in Essos. The true art of it is predicting the opponent's next moves, not defeating him on a field of battle."  
  
"It is also played by generals and tacticians." Maester Jeon absently stroked his chin while his gaze jumped back and forth between a catapult and an elephant, both in disadvantageous positions. "And this looks both like a battlefield and a crushing defeat."


	4. May 4 - Needs More Dragon (Gundar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 4: Use these four words in a drabble — fairydust (replace with a different magical word if it doesn’t exist in your world), gleam, glacial, sleep. (100 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set somewhen before chapter 11 of Summer Storm, during the stay at Castle Black.

 "The South has forgotten what lies out there!"

Gundar paced along the rickety balustrades on top of the wall as if he was a general giving a speech to his men. There were only two and evidently neither liked being up here, surrounded by wafting snowflakes and glacial winds.

"The old enemy is still there," Gundar continued, ignoring his companions' lack of enthusiam. "We must be prepared when the Night's King wakes from his long sleep and it will take more than gleaming swords to repel the demons and beasts he will lead! Wildfire and dragons, that's what we need!"

 


	5. May 5 - Drowned Man's Prayer (Nereon Krakensong & Ser Eldrion Thorncliffe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 5: What is your character pulling out of their hat today? (200 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set somewhen during chapter 14 of Summer Storm, on Lady Olenna's terrace.

"He found it on a desolate island, so far west from Great Wyk that no sailor had seen it before!"  
  
Nereon wildly gestured to the helmet, stoic and silver like a fortress between the playfully decorated plates and bowls of the feast. Though the helmet resembled a living being, it had nothing in common with the roasted goose to its left. The tentacles looked like the helmet had intentions of devouring its wearer instead of being the meal.  
  
"Nothing but sharp rocks out there," Nereon continued his ominous tale. "Ser Eldrion, just a young sailor at the time, was lucky being alive after the ship he sailed on crashed against these treacherous shores in the dark of the night. He owes his life to this helmet and wouldn't be with us tonight if it wasn't for its uncanny ability. If the helmet is near the ocean, it turns into a magical cup that provides its owner with freshwater in exchange for devout prayers to the Drowned God!"  
  
The eyes of his mesmerized audience wandered from the curious artifact up to its approaching owner.  
  
"Actually, I had it made by a smith at Horn Hill," Ser Eldrion dryly informed the listeners.


	6. May 6 - Flames of Faith (Thoros of Myr, Robert Baratheon & Jalabhar Xho)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 1: A practical joke leads your character(s) to an emotional epiphany. Good or bad, they are feeling something after all of this is over. (Since there was no prompt posted for April 6, I used one from the previous month and just assigned the maximum word count of the short fiction theme from May.)

The king's banquet hall was decorated more elaborately than usual. What stood out to Thoros at first sight when he entered was the plethora of braziers and candelabra, flooding the room with bright, fiery light. The second thing he noticed was the absence of the king's usual drinking companions; His Grace was the only person present and he didn't seem to expect anyone else.  
  
"Thoros, there you are!" King Robert got up from his chair and raised his cup to toast to his puzzled guest. "We must celebrate! You finally did it!"  
  
"I'm all for celebrations, though I don't have a clue what the occasion might be," Thoros gave back. He went closer to inspect the opulent feast on the table. A suckling pig was the centerpiece, surrounded by plates of buttered greens, bowls with thick sauces and so many carafes of wine that the collection seemed excessive even for Robert.  
  
"You converted me!" the king cheerfully proclaimed and poured down his cup of wine in one go. "I had this prepared in honor of your success!"  
  
Thoros blanky stared at the king for a long moment, struggling for words. He hadn't tried to convert anyone in the past decade, maybe a joke in passing here and there, but nothing that could possibly have led to success. "But why?" he finally broke the silence, regarding the king with confusion and disbelief.  
  
"You told me it's an acquired taste and if I drink enough, I will come to like it." His Grace grabbed a carafe and wandered around the long table. "I heeded your advice and you were right. A true king can admit his past mistakes and strive to atone for them, so I hereby convert to Dornish Red wine!"  
  
"You royal bastard!" Thoros gasped in relief. "For a moment, I thought I'd lose my stipend from the temple, get called back to Essos or receive a new mission from the High Priest."  
  
His Grace broke out in roaring laughter and almost poured the wine from his carafe all over himself when he tried to drink from it while still guffawing. "I told you he'd fall for it!" he triumphantly proclaimed, waving at the heavy curtains near the tapestry on the end of the room.  
  
"Fine, you won." Jalabhar Xho stepped out of his hiding spot, holding a bulbous, ornate bottle. "The spiced rum is all yours, Your Bastardly Grace."


	7. May 7 - Ladylike (Margaery Tyrell, Loras Tyrell & Anguy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 7: Character A finds out that Character B has never done something that they consider a normal part of growing up. (There's still no prompt posted for today, so I use the one from last month with this month's medium word count; 200.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after chapter 27 of Summer Storm, after returning to Blackhaven from Harvest Hall.

"You practiced aiming a lance with your brothers, but you never snuck to the barn?" Anguy stared at the Tyrells in disbelief, waiting for an elaboration from either. "Everyone did, even Beric and he's the paragon of good behavior."  
  
Loras shrugged, leaned back against his haystack and gestured for the nearest bottle of wine. When Anguy's eyes went back to his sister, Loras sighed with slight annoyance, sat up and got the bottle himself.  
  
"Barns are not very exciting places," Margaery answered the question. "When I took the risk and evaded the septa, I went where it would be worth being caught."  
  
"I bet you didn't dare try it. In the end, you are a lady and silly dares like that are not proper." Anguy shot her a challenging grin, but it didn't have the expected effect.  
  
Margaery got up, gathered the long train of her dress and went straight to the barn's window. "Of course I'm a lady," she said and pushed the shutter open some more. "It doesn't mean I back down from a challenge. That's something I learned from my grandmother when I was a girl." And she jumped, landing on the haystack down in the yard.


	8. May 8 - An Eye for an Eye (Leiff & Gundar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 6: They were told in this place to expect the unexpected, but what they find behind the door is almost too much to believe. (100 Words) - Was posted after I already wrote a different prompt. Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during chapter 12 of Summer Storm, the morning in the Nightfort.

"That is your 'shadow as black as the heart of the Storm King's brother'?" Gundar looked around in the cellar, to the caved in ceiling where the first light of dawn fell into the room. "How black can a shadow be if the moon shines through that huge hole?" He glowered at Leiff, standing on the stairs and nonchalantly eating a piece of sweet bread. "Where's that vengeful ghost? There's nothing here but rubble and rats."  
  
Leiff shrugged, a triumphant grin on his face. "It must be hard to believe that my scary story held no more truth than yours."


	9. May 8 - The Flying Reachman ( Nereon Krakensong, Anguy & Leiff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 8: Your character regales the other(s) with a supernatural tale from their culture. (300 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the journey to Blacktyde.

"Why do you leave the common room every night at a certain time?" Leiff raised the wager and threw three more seashells into the bowl. "I'm sure the sailors would gladly listen to you a while longer."

 

Nereon wrinkled his nose, glared at his cards, then tried to peek at the hand of the Tyroshi cook next to him. "You haven't heard the tale of the _Cornflower Blossom_?" Leiff and Anguy shook their heads, the cook shot a snide glance to Nereon and covered the cards he held with his free hand. "Three hundred years ago, the ship left the Reach with a delivery of wine for House Harlaw, but never made it to the Ironman's Bay," Nereon explained in an ominous tone. "It is said the captain was never late in all his years at sea. When a bad storm ravaged the coast, he refused waiting it out in a safe harbor. The _Cornflower Blossom_ sank at midnight just outside Feastfires, and every man on board drowned that night."

"Captain Burgess always takes the sails in at sundown," Anguy interjected. "And even if he sailed at night, how would your absence from the common room prevent the _Golden Harvest_ from sinking, should a bad storm surprise us?"

"Oh, it wouldn't." Nereon carefully counted the shells in the bowl, then studied the cards in his hand again. "The ghosts of the sailors that died on the _Cornflower Blossom_ are said to still roam the coastline. If they find a ship after midnight, they'll kill every man on board and take over, still trying to make it to Harlaw on time. They'd never find me in my quarter. If I stay there for the night, I can just slip off the ship once it docks in the port of Ten Towers."

 


	10. May 9 - Honorable Death (Beric & Loras)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to use the following words in a story: Thundering, promote, fish, inspire. (No prompt posted, took one from April, 100 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during chapter 26 of Summer Storm.

"You bravely resisted the temptation of my bait for so long," Loras addressed the trout on his hook, his attempt at a thundering voice clearly inspired by King Robert. "You shall no longer be a mere fish! I hereby bestow knighthood upon you!"  
  
"The fish is dead. What's the point in promoting it now?" Beric skeptically regarded the catch, by now limp on the hook after Loras' speech. "Let's knight a live one, then we can slay it honorably in battle."  
  
"That's a good idea." Loras turned around and blindly pointed at the river. "I hereby name you Ser Salmon!"


	11. May 10 - Krakensong (Nereon, implied)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 10: No dialogue! Your character(s) observe otherworldly events. Give us the vivid details. (100 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the Blacktyde arc.

A moment ago, the sea had been calm, a smooth, black surface reflecting a full moon.  
  
Now, all of a sudden, the ship was shaking as if a thousand dead sailors tried to pull it under the waves. There was no storm, no breeze; all flags hung lifeless and still on the mast.  
  
A shadowy figure emerged from a hatch, soaring up like a ghost from an unearthed grave. It almost looked blurry from the distance, as if otherworldly powers tried to conceal the sight. Then the shadow entered a cabin and with that, the sea's rage was gone again.


	12. May 11 - Cold Comfort (Benjen Warryng & Kareena Frey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader prompt; use the words "doors, hands, mother and city". (300 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the Riverlands arc.

Kareena rubbed her hands together while following Benjen down the hallway. Years ago, she had visited White Harbor with an aunt and two uncles who fought in Lord Manderly's annual tournament. It hadn't been this cold in the city, she remembered, but somehow she had expected it to be even worse this far in the North.  
  
Benjen stopped and pushed a door open, then stepped aside to let Kareena see inside. "These are your chambers," he said. Kareena entered and looked around in the room. It was small and there was only simple furniture, though a tall wardrobe with carved decorations stood out to her. "You're probably used to having a bigger room," Benjen added. "But it won't be so bad once you settled in. If you like, you can take a look at Dayana's belongings. Her room is two doors down from yours and she left a bunch of blankets and curtains when she moved to the Vale. She won't mind if you take them and make your room a bit cozier."  
  
"You all have own rooms?" Kareena turned around and looked at him with some surprise. "I always shared one with my cousins. Septa Luissa called it a test of patience whenever I complained that they couldn't keep their hands off my things."  
  
"I reckon Frostspear Hall is less crowded than the Twins," Benjen gave back and shrugged. "We have plently of rooms nobody lives in. My mother had this one prepared for you because it's the closest to ours. But if you want peace and quiet, we can probably find a more secluded one."  
  
"No, no, this will be just fine." Kareena appraisingly studied the carvings on the wardrobe. "I'd like to talk to your mother though," she then said. "I never had one of those either."


	13. May 11 - Written in the Stars (Lord Ossyn & Maester Jeon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 11: Something is wrong with time! Please interpret this however works best for your fandom. Metaphorical or literal troubles, please apply within. (300 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after Ossyn's return from Essos.

"My lord, may I suggest renegotiating the agreements with House Selmy and House Meadows?"  
  
Maester Jeon dragged his ancient self into the solar where Lord Ossyn sat and pondered his options in a cyvasse game against himself. It took a moment before he looked up, a quizzical expression on his face. "Renegotiate? Why? Is there a problem? We just received a wagon of wheat from Harvest Hall last week. The delivery was, as usual, complete and on time. And I don't recall any trouble with House Meadows either."  
  
"A raven arrived from the Citadel," the maester explained. The concern in his voice made Lord Ossyn abandon the game, turn around in his armchair and listen intently. "For months, maesters from all over the realms reported strange observations they saw in the sky," Jeon continued. "The Conclave deliberated those findings, watched the stars more closely than usual and finally confirmed the prediction of an especially long and harsh winter. We may need more supplies than our agreements currently cover. This time, the South won't be spared from dire conditions."  
  
"I see." Lord Ossyn slowly nodded and thoughtfully tucked his fiery beard. "Does the message say how long and how harsh? If not, send an inquiry to the Citadel. I need to know if we have to make more room in the cellars."  
  
"That is what concerns me," Maester Jeon replied. "The message says they can't see how long this winter will last. Ten years, maybe more, that is their 'best guess'. I never heard of the Conclave using vague phrases, yet they must have thought of the warning as urgent."  
  
Lord Ossyn furrowed his brow in thought. "It sounds serious indeed," he said after a brief a silence. "Send ravens to our suppliers. And send one to House Tyrell as well."


	14. May 12 - Forgotten Knowledge (Gilly & Samwell Tarly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 12: Ever since your character(s) read that book, strange things have been happening. (200 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely out of place in this collection, but the lack of Sam/Gilly slice of life needs to be recitified. Baby steps.
> 
> For [stefanie_bean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefanie_bean/pseuds/stefanie_bean).

The heavy, leather-clad cover of the old tome fell, closing the book and sending a cloud of dust in the air. Sam ignored the attempt at drawing his attention and kept studying the scrolls on the table. Only when Gilly removed one of the books that held down the scrolls' corners, Sam looked up to her with a sigh.  
  
"Who invented books?" Gilly immediately posed her burning question. "Who wrote the first one?"  
  
"Some maester, I suppose," Sam gave back and moved a candleholder on the edge of his scroll.  
  
"And why?" Gilly brushed the dust off the table and inspected the cover of her tome more closely. "Didn't people have a way of passing on knowledge without books? What gave that maester the idea to write things down?"  
  
Sam shrugged, sighed again and abandoned his studies for the moment. "Of course people passed on their knowledge," he said. "But people forget things. Books exist so people can read about those things later and nothing gets lost."  
  
Gilly regarded him with a skeptical expression, then slowly ran her hand over the tome's cover. "But people also forget about books," she noted. "Are there books reminding people of other books then?"


	15. May 13 - Royal Delights (Jalabhar Xho & Thoros of Myr)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 13: A flower has special properties and it is just what your character has been looking for. (100 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't stick to 100 words because this is something I wanted to do for a long time, so I made it 200.

"What is that?" Thoros meant both the fact that Jalabhar Xho was sneaking around in the hallways at night and the strange plant the man carried with him on this nightly excursion.  
  
"Shhh!" Jalabhar put a finger on his lips and waved Thoros over. "It has no name," he explained, whispering. "It was recently found on some of the smaller islands of my realm. My agents smuggled it to Westeros when the curious properties of the beans were discovered. I might finally have what it takes to get King Robert's support in taking back my throne!"  
  
"Why? What does it do?" Thoros raised an eyebrow and inspected the peculiar plant.  
  
"It sounds rather complicated," Jalabhar replied, still whispering like a mystic making foreboding predictions. "Those beans, you dry and roast them, then grind them down to a powder and let it brew in hot water for a short while."  
  
"That sounds rather complicated indeed," Thoros interjected, but Jalabhar wasn't done with his explanation.  
  
"The result is a black, bitter beverage," he continued. "An acquired taste for sure, but certainly worth it. Drinking only a few cups chases away any drowsiness, leaving you wide awake for feasts that last all night!"


	16. May 14 - Disarming Logic (Beric & Anguy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 14: Use these four words in a drabble — fantasy, leap, ground, nice. (100 Words)

"Elephants can't leap over mountains.." Beric moved Anguy's elephant back to its starting position on the cyvasse board.  
  
"Why not?" Anguy's eyes immediately darted to the piece and the flat ground field it stood on again. "You said it's a fantasy battle. If you can fly around with your dragon, I can put my elephant on top of a mountain."  
  
"Dragons could fly," Beric countered. "Elephants can't jump that high."  
  
"You've never seen a real dragon." Anguy put the elephant back on the mountain. "They're all dead. Elephants aren't and if you ask nicely one will certainly try to jump."


	17. May 15 - A Rock and a Hard Place (Beric & Ser Eldrion Thorncliffe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 15: Character A takes Character B to a magical place to cheer them up (300 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, just 1700 words over the limit. [Some uncharacteristic musical inspiration.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtUi8d0DF1Q)

The sun set over the Arbor, painting the sky in the colors of evening and dousing the rolling hills and vineyards in a fiery orange-red. Musicians played upbeat songs, some people were dancing, others chatted and enjoyed the abundant offerings of the feast. Beric, however, didn't partake in either. Somehow, he wasn't in the mood for a loud celebration and preferred staying apart from the bustle, alone with his thought. He leaned on a wall separating the tourney grounds from the gardens and stared to the sea.

"I can never get enough of this sight either." Ser Eldrion had wandered over, away from the festival's music and chatter, and joined Beric in his solitude. "There are no sunsets like this on the Iron Islands, not this warm or this vivid, as if the sun doesn't shine quite as strong there."

Beric didn't reply, but he nodded and glanced over when a sunbeam got caught on something next to him. His eyes found a brooch, odd yet familiar, holding his companion's green cloak. It took a moment until he recalled where he had seen the peculiar item before. But then the memory was back in an instant and the strange metal reflected a question that had quietly burned in the back of his mind for a long time. "What happened to your friend?" he asked, not really expecting Ser Eldrion would answer.

But Ser Eldrion did. "Nereon went home," he simply said, as if that was truly all there was to this story. Beric kept staring to the distant horizon and remained quiet instead of asking for clarification. "It's not him you're curious about," Ser Eldrion stated after a brief silence. "You're wondering if some kind of magic left with him, if there was any truth to his fantastical stories." Undecidedly, Beric nodded. The old man was right and this was something he had never been able to put into words.

 

"Come." Ser Eldrion left the spot by the wall and slowly wandered toward the steps down to the shore.

After a quick glance to the buzz of the festival, Beric followed the old knight down the stairs. A small boat was anchored there on a simple dock, barely more than a few planks and a pole with a rope. Though he didn't know what to expect, Beric climbed into the boat. He was surprised seeing a man of Ser Eldrion's status sit down on the bench and take the rudders himself, but he didn't comment.

"I used to be a fisherman," Ser Eldrion casually noted, moving the rudders with evident ease in the water. "Caught fish for a living, though it was hardly a life. Every once in a while I made a good catch, but it was never enough for living and always too much to die." Beric silently nodded, still not sure where this conversation was headed. A lecture about appreciating high birth or being heir to a Great House? The words fit, but Ser Eldrion's voice didn't match the predicted direction. He sounded too laid back, too calm and content for the topic.

"One day, I said 'fuck it'." Ser Eldrion chuckled at Beric's irritated expression when hearing a usually eloquent and well-spoken knight use such blunt words. "I didn't take my boat home to Saltcliffe. I just sailed it down the coast, as far South as the old hooker would take me." He paused and laughed to himself. "Didn't think it would be as far as Bandallon, but that's where my journey ended. And there I was, a dirty, young Ironborn lad in the Reach, not knowing left from right or land from sea."

 

On the horizon, a black silhouette came into view; an offshore rock barely the size of Blackhaven's courtyard. There was a structure on it, a barn or a large cottage, with banners streaming against the fiery evening sky.

 "Traded the boat to an old man right at the harbor," Ser Eldrion continued his tale. "Got a hack even older than him and an incomplete suit of armor. A dented helmet, a scratched breastplate, both pauldrons, but only one greave. Still, it seemed better than peddling the same fish from the same boat in a different harbor to me. Figured I could as well be a knight, now that I was in a place that had hedges." Again, Ser Eldrion laughed and went on before Beric thought of something to say. "So I rode down the coast on my half-dead horse. Came to a settlement with a smith down on his luck. His apprentice had ran off with some woman and left the poor guy with too few hands. Seemed knightly to offer mine for a while, and in the end he paid me with a second greave and an old sword."

 The silhouette had now become a much clearer picture, shapes and colors were recognizable in the dim light of the dusk. A rock it was, with a cottage made of dark wood and a dock pointing eastward into the Summer Sea.

 "I reckoned I could try my hand at some tourneys." Ser Eldrion shot a glance over his shoulder, to the rock and the cottage, then turned back with a smile. "The horse was too old and would have died from exhaustion if I had only tried to ride down the lists," he added, amused by the thought. "So I entered the melee with my mismatched yet complete armor and a sword so dull that words were more cutting than its blade. It went as well as you imagine, but I came out alive."

"What happened then?" Beric finally said, just to say something at all. The story of Ser Eldrion's rise from humble fisherman to esteemed knight still seemed to point at a lecture about the ease of high birth, and at the same time it didn't sound like that at all.

"Then magic happened." Ser Eldrion laughed and got up from the bench, grabbed the rope from the floor and waited for the boat to drift close enough to the dock. "Some fancy lords heard me curse at my loss and picked up my accent. They were enthralled by the enigma of an Ironborn knight in an instant. Instead of returning home, broke and defeated, I was given new parts for my armor and even a more alive horse. Nothing outrageous, just a wealthy miller's crossbred work horse, but it didn't break down under my weight."

"So you could enter the lists?" Beric got up and helped Ser Eldrion fasten the rope on the dock.

"I could indeed." Ser Eldrion guffawed at that. "And I turned out to be the worst jouster you'll ever meet. I'm probably the only knight in the Reach who never made it to any finals." He grabbed the rope to keep his balance when climbing from the boat to the narrow ladder leading up to the gangplank. "But that didn't stop the lords from celebrating their exotic spectacle even more. It became a competition among them to 'appease the Drowned Knight'. And who am I to complain about their generosity? I took what I could get and laughed to myself about, strictly speaking, paying the iron price for it all. Every single thing I was given I have earned in combat, except I rarely won any fights."

He offered Beric a hand and helped him up the gangplank, then led the way down a rocky path toward the cottage. "House Redwyne and House Tyrell became involved in the fad," he continued as they followed the trail. "It was a joke between them. They tried to outdo each other with intangible offerings. And I did all I could to inspire them in their contest. Fashioned myself a shield with a kraken on it, had a helmet forged that resembled tentacles devouring my head. Even yelled prayers to the Drowned God before entering the melee, though I was never especially devout."

 

The closer they came to the cottage, the more vegetation Beric noticed alongside the path. The rugged island didn't strike him as fertile, but there was a multitude of flowers, most of them roses in various colors, that had to be planted and cared for to grow on this rock.

"Then Lord Tyrell played his best card." Ser Eldrion stopped outside the cottage and turned back to the sea and his guest. "He knighted me and Lord Redwyne was outraged about losing their silly competition. But I had tasted blood and I had my title. That's when I went back to the Iron Islands and found the most bizarre flower blossoming in Ironborn culture."

"Nereon Krakensong," Beric noted.

"Nereon of the Lonely Light, at the time," Ser Eldrion corrected. He wandered over to a wooden bench, picked up a bucket and looked inside. Apparently, there was still water in it, as he strolled to a planter with pink and white roses and poured the bucket's content on their soil. "He became Krakensong on the journey back to the Reach. We spun so much yarn, it would stretch from Pyke to Oldtown if it was actual twine instead of wild stories." He put the bucket back on its spot by the bench and returned to Beric, then opened the squeaking, old door.

"When we showed up in the Reach again and Nereon began spreading his outlandish tales, House Redwyne jumped at the chance of outdoing the Tyrells. There had been many rumors about my sudden disappearance. Some said I won a bet and went home to collect my winnings. That I just tried to prove pompous Southerners would knight anyone, even a foul-mouthed fisherman who was better at archery than with swords. Others claimed I was a spy for a group of particularly ambitious pirates and brought back information for their planned raid of the Reach. When neither turned out to be true, House Redwyne smelled victory over House Tyrell. They landed me, after finding out this rock we stand on is just large enough to be considered 'land' rather than 'rubble'." He pushed the door open and stepped aside to let Beric enter.

 

As rickety and weather-worn as the cottage had looked from the distance, as cozy and pleasant it was inside. The furnishings were simple, but not shabby, and the walls were bending under the weight of mounted mementos. A shield with a crudely drawn kraken sat above the hearth, the mantle below held a row of ornate bottles. They were empty, but had certainly contained Arbor Gold in the past. In a corner nearby stood a display with an dented, mismatched suit of armor and an old sword on the wall above.

While Beric looked around in amazement, studying the hidden treasures of this deceptively humble hideout, Ser Eldrion lit a fire in the hearth. "I always knew there was something about Nereon that unsettled people," he said when the fire roared. "That's why I sought him out, after all, to spook and mystify gullible and easily entertained nobles. Maybe there was something magical to it, maybe not." He made an inviting gesture toward a large sofa, then went to a shelf with cups and bottles.

"So you don't know his secret either after all those years?" Beric put some cushions aside and sat down by the low table. "Or if there even was a secret to him?"

"I'm sure there was a secret of some kind," Ser Eldrion gave back from the shelf while filling two cups with wine. "But I don't know any more about its nature than anyone else." He put the bottle down, took the cups and joined Beric at the table. "I do know, however, that magic prevails. Maybe not the kind that runs in Nereon's veins, maybe whatever it was truly left the world with him. But the kind you see here isn't going anywhere, not the wonders we craft with our own hands and our cunning. Or that just falls into our lap by dumb luck."

 


	18. May 16 - By The Rivers Dark (unnamed shadowbinder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 16: Like a phoenix, he/she will rise from these ashes. (400 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asshai by the Shadow. Not quite "these ashes", though the river Ash does fork and might count as plural.

The sun never shines where she walks. They say at noon, on some days, one can see a pale orb among the perpetual blanket of clouds above the mountains, but for years she never bothered to look. The faint, green shroud rising above the Ash river at night is more familiar and its gentle glow is enough for someone who doesn't see through her eyes.  
  
Her mind reaches out, seeps through the ghostly light of the river, feels for the presence of life in these dead lands. There are shapes scurrying in the water; malformed, the bizarre guises almost indiscernible from bedrocks and driftwood, not one among them that truly resembles another.  
  
She drags her rickety body closer to the banks, not minding the sharp edges of black rocks under her bare feet. Shadows, that's all she feels in this form, when the absence of light becomes part of her being and consumes anything capable of feeling pain.   
  
By the time she wades into the river the transition is perfect. The water can't touch what has no true form and the dark shapes within it lack eyes to see the grotesque beauty in their midst. _Such pitiful creatures_ , she thinks as her senses follow the erratic movements under the water. The thought bears no emotion; a predator's heart does not go out to its prey. Her essence whips out, shadows moving faster than light, just for one moment.  
  
It is a good catch, she finds when she steps out of the water, gaining form the farther she walks on the ground. The prey is wobbly and slimy in her knotty hands, and has a putrid smell to it despite being freshly caught. Later, when she'll open its body with a knife made of black glass, the meat will have a greenish tint, maybe interveined with dark, brownish lesions. Not many dare eating this flesh, it's a feast reserved for those of her kind alone.   
  
For a heartbeat, she feels melancholic and stops on the rocky trail back to her dwelling. Things used to be different when she was younger, more human than now. There were dragons and demons alive in those cliffs, miracles and wonders in every cave. Today, blind, wobbly fish like the one in her hand are the only living things in this valley. _One day_ , she thinks, hopes, prays, _this old magic will rise from my ashes_.


	19. May 17 - Potion of Speed (Rowland Hallsten & Leiff Warryng)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 17: Dialogue only. They bought it from the witch/magician/mage/wise person as a joke… (100 Words)

"You can't just take things from my saddlebag!"  
  
"Why not? You're Beric's squire. Your things are his property. He's my cousin and doesn't mind sharing with his kin."  
  
"You're even pettier than I thought... What did you do with it anyway? You didn't drink it, did you? The witch said it's not meant for human consumption."  
  
"I'm not a moron. Of course I don't drink from mysterious bottles. I fed it to Ser Aydan's horse. Anguy said the potion makes it go faster."  
  
"You should have asked _where_ it goes... I hope for your sake Ser Aydan desperately needs dung."


	20. May 18 - Almost Human (Thoros, Beric & Stormclaw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 18: Why does it seem like that animal/creature knows more than it should? Seriously, someone should check that out. (300 Words)

"It is back. And it is staring at me again." Thoros hastily poured down his wine and backed away from the window, toward the door and the desk where Beric sat and calmly ignored the impending danger. "I don't like how it stares at me," Thoros added, just in case he hadn't made himself clear the first time.  
  
"It's an owl," Beric gave back, not looking up from the scroll he was writing on. "Owls stare like this at everything and everyone. It's just how they look."  
  
"Maybe so, but it's staring in a particularly threatening manner." Thoros leaned against the wall next to the desk and nonchalantly reached for a bottle of red wine. "It even brought a corpse this time as a warning! I can accept the ball of wool it had before as a harmless toy, but not this."  
  
Beric sighed and finally looked up from his letter, turned to the window and sighed again. "That's also a toy, one made from leather and fur. If that's a 'corpse' to you, half the realms are dressed in the dead." He took the feather from the inkwell, eyed Thoros up head to toe, then continued writing on the scroll. "Half of what _you_ are wearing is made from 'corpses'. The boots, the belt, part of your coat."  
  
"That's different," Thoros explained with an air of importance, opened the bottle and refilled his cup. "I'm wearing clothes. I'm not holding something that resembles prey in my sharp talons, nor do I unblinkingly stare down your guests."  
  
"You have more in common with Stormclaw than you like to admit." Beric put the feather away and blew on the ink of his letter to dry it. "You have different approaches, but you're both very persistent when you court me for attention."


	21. May 19 - Fiery Visions (R'hllor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 19: What did your character see inside the crystal ball? (Feel free to interpret this to fit worlds). (100 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreshadowing the sequel to Summer Storm.

An old enemy rising from ages long silent.  
  
The rebirth of a warrior, dressed in gold.  
  
A child born of lies and nursed with deception.  
  
Blood spilled on sand and blood spilled on snow.  
  
The prince that was promised breaking his promise.  
  
A sober mind drunk with delusion, led astray on a dark path.  
  
The fragile harmony of frozen, black oceans.  
  
A rose in a storm; a mother, a son.  
  
The end of an era; the death of honor and strength.  
  
A hollow triumph of liars, biding their time.  
  
Flames flicker and fade and the Red God says no more.


	22. May 27 - Witchcraft and Wine (Thoros & Beric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 27: Use the following four words in a drabble — Wand, Grimace, Kiss, Playful. (100 Words)

"How can something this sweet and fruity be so deceptive?" Beric grimaced in pain. "My head feels like King Robert took a swing with his hammer at it. Wine shouldn't be able to do that."  
  
"It's called strongwine for a reason," Thoros calmly corrected. He gave Beric one of the cups filled with a sticky, greenish liquid. "Try this. A remedy the Dornish drink after too much too strong wine."  
  
Beric drank and immediately grimaced again.  "Damned warlock! This is awful. It better help..."  
  
"Kiss my wand, Lord Sunshine," Thoros playfully replied and took a swig from his sticky concoction.


	23. May 22 - In The Shadows (unnamed shadowbinder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 22: Use these four words in a drabble — vial, salt, brew, ethereal. (100 Words)

A dragon has hatched here, right in this spot, and a threeheaded demon died here just an eon before. Her old hands can feel the past on the darks rock, long after the ethereal beasts drowned in the torrents of time. Even life born from magic is fleeting in the dark of Asshai, but she senses enough residual sparks of long faded enchantment for her brew. A few chips of charred stone, a pinch of salt, a drip of the Ash's water, a shake of the vial, a handful of scales, a few whispered words and the spell is complete.


	24. May 24 - Long Distance Calling (Beric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader prompt: Home, heart, dark-blue and stream.

The night was cool and refreshing on Blackhaven's battlements, black and purple banners streamed in the wind. Not one cloud obscured the dark-blue horizon and the countless, tiny lights of glimmering stars.   
  
Stormclaw waddled up and down on the balustrade, seemingly busy with matters that only concerned owls and could not be grasped by limited, human minds.  
  
Beric's gaze got lost in the distance, drifted somewhere far away, following the call of new adventures, the allures of places and wonders yet unseen.  
  
Home is where the heart is, people said. But where was 'home' when one's heart traveled the world?


	25. May 20 - Heart of the Shadow (unnamed shadowbinder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 20: Your character has been told for years the stories of hauntings / strange goings on / magic in this place. Now it’s their turn to find out. (300 Words)

They arrived by ship in the morning, a group of five men. They told me they were Merchants from Qarth and they had the elaborate, long robes and the coins to back up their claim. The pale blue tint on their lips said otherwise, but I pretended not to see it. A masked, old woman was of little concern to men of their status and wealth and they didn't try to hide the telltale shade of blue in the dim light of my hut. All they wanted from me was a map of the lands on the banks of the river and once I sold it to them, my opinion of them mattered even less than before.  
  
After their brief visit, I heard them debate outside my door for a while longer. They studied the map, discussed which path they should take. They cursed me in High Valyrian when they found parts of the Shadow Lands uncharted, then the arrogance of youth rang in their laughter; one of them noted it was no surprise a blind mapmaker's charts were incomplete. A good omen, another concluded, as it could only mean the secrets of Stygai remained yet untouched.  
  
They left at noon, on the birchwood raft they had brought with them, in the brief, fleeting light of the pale sun. They were in high spirits when they sailed up the black river, spurred by greed and hunger for knowledge no man should possess. I don't know if they made it to the Heart of the Shadow. If they found what they were looking for. If Shadow Men preyed upon them or demons devoured their spirits in the perpetual dark. But I know it has been two centuries to the day since their departure and that only few men live this long.


	26. May 29 - Wide Awake (Lady Satal Vaith)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 29: It was a dream brought to life… literally. (400 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One common fanfiction pet peeve is "unnecessary detailed OC descriptions that just go on and on". Frankly, I have a brand new kind of respect for that bad habit because this was a pain to write. I'm glad the prompt didn't say 500 words, otherwise I'd have added a long ass description of the entire wardrobe. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Her smile was so warm and bright it served the trees in the lemon grove as an extra dose of sunshine and her laughter rang like a melody when she joked with friends in the gardens of her father's retreat.

Her talent for the fine arts showed in marvelous paintings, on display in her proud parents' gallery. Every stroke of the brush brought landscapes to life, compositions of colors made still lifes seem real. She was well-versed in the knowledge of plants and her portrayals of grape vines were especially vivid and detailed. She never bragged about her artistic skills, but she also didn't blush when receiving compliments for her work. Too many noble daughters were raised to be too humble, play down their talents and divert attention away from their pursuits. Dornish women were not so timid; they knew their own value and took pride in it.

Her interests were varied and her enthusiasm for certain things was surprising, considering her status and her family's wealth. Many nobles encouraged their daughters to hone their musical talents, but most played harps or lyres, instruments suited for ladies of high birth. Not her. She had fallen in love with the sound of a Rhoynish flute as a young girl, when she had heard the Orphans play it on the banks of the Greenblood. It was seen as an instrument suited for wandering minstrels, river folk and gypsies, not one highborn women should learn to play. The flute's reputation hadn't stopped her and over the years, she had mastered a variety of songs.

Her eyes were the color of sunlight shining through a glass of dark amber wine; smoky quartz from the distant shores in the East. Her hair was the rich, dark umber of exquisite wood, a torrent of long, untamed curls swirling around her when she danced. The Old Valyrian blood of her Lyseni mother had made her complexion lighter than the skin of her father, a salty Dornishmen from the coast, giving her light olive skin a warm, bronze glow.

She was smart; not simply well-educated, there was a keen mind behind her lively eyes. She was courteous, but not timid and carried herself with fierce Dornish pride. She was interesting and genuine in all her pursuits. She was certainly a dream brought to life in the eyes of so many, but she was not the dream Loras dreamt.


	27. May 26 - Touching Stygai (unnamed shadowbinder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 26: The glow seems to come from within the crystal. This is what your character has been searching for all this time! (100 Words)

The knotty fingers of her ancient hand wrap tightly around the smooth piece of black glass. She moves it over the yellowed parchment, circular motions, surveying the empty scroll inch by inch. In her mind, landscapes take shape.   
  
Steep cliffs and foothills of ink-black mountains. Rocky banks of the river, fluorescing green in the dark. The grave of a king, his name long forgotten. Fields of ghost grass swaying in a valley's cold wind.  
  
Suddenly, she recoils. Her hands drops the crystal as a glow sparks on the inside. The black glass hits the parchment, the faint light within dies.


	28. May 24 - Moonscape (Leilinda)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 24: In the dark of the night, in the deep of the woods… (200 Words)

In the moonlight, her swamp comes to life.  
  
There are twinkling sparks of pale purple between the crimson leaves of the weirwood, an entire universe trapped in the twigs. The lights fade when dawn comes with its early sunbeams. They must be harvested after nightfall and stored in opaque jars made of clay.  
  
There are strange, phosphorescent mushrooms nestled against the weirwood's white roots. By day, they look like common toadstools and travelers ignore them, knowing of their poisonous, inedible nature. At night, when they glow in shades of faint green and turquoise, one can safely consume them. They don't taste like much, but dried and powdered, then mixed with fish oil, they turn into an ointment to treat rashes and chafed skin.  
  
There are the leaves of water lilies floating like islands on the dirty, brown bog. Daylight gives them the color of dun and the untrained eye can barely tell them apart from the muddy water. When the moon shines on them and ignites their silver-blue glow, they attract toads and frogs that provide valuable poisons.  
  
Those unaccustomed to magic see no more than an eerie forest. The enchanted eyes of witch see the night in full bloom.


	29. May 30 - Blood Magic (Thoros & Ser Danyal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 30: Your character always thought it was magic. The truth is far more mundane. (100 Words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the Blacktyde arc of Summer Storm.

"How is it made?" Ser Danyal sniffed on the now empty bottle and looked at Thoros with inquisitive eyes. "Is it enchanted? Does it contain powdered bones of sacrifices you made to your god?" He turned the bottle upside down, but not a single drop of the concoction was left. "You know, you could become a very rich man with this spell. After tourneys, when every man's head feels like someone swung at it with a hammer, nobody would mind buying a brew enchanted with blood magic."  
  
"Actually, it's a blend of Dornish kitchen herbs," Thoros said with a shrug.


	30. May 21 - The Tempest Tower (Beric & Anguy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 21: Your character has a perfectly logical explanation for magical happenings. (200 Words)

"There's nothing cursed about that tower."   
  
Beric jumped off his horse and led it to the small stream to drink, then hurried to catch up with Anguy on his way to the charred ruin near the road.  
  
"It has to be cursed." Anguy sounded reproachful, as if he was a maester reprimanding his student for not drawing the obvious conclusions from the lesson. "I know of nothing else that has been struck by lightning so many times. That can't be natural. I remember one year, when I was fourteen or fifteen, it happened twice in one month."  
  
"How is that unusual?" Beric sighed and sat down on a tree trunk. "The Stormlands were named for harsh and long-lasting storms."  
  
"House Selmy isn't known for their superstition," Anguy decidedly gave back. "Even they think it's cursed. That's why they abandoned the tower."  
  
"Do you see anything else this tall in the area?" Beric looked around, across rolling hills, meadows, fields of flowers and patches of shrubs. "The tower was twice as tall as it is now before the upper half burned and crumbled. Lord Selmy simply made a bad choice when he decided this was a good place for a tower."


	31. May 31 - The Worldly Solution (Thoros & Ser Danyal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader prompt: 3 random nouns and yesterday's word of the day: sun, magic, problem, suborn

The acolytes of R'hllor were taught that the Lord of Light's fire burned hotter and brighter than the sun. They were told about the Long Night, the War for the Dawn, the Prince That Was Promised. They recited prayers and learned foreign tongues, praised the Red God in various dialects of the Free Cities.  
  
But blood magic or wisdom wasn't always the answer. Westerosi usually couldn't tell a Valyrian spell from drunk Gibberish anyway. Some problems called for a much simpler solution. Ser Danyal was right, it would be best to just suborn the witness and call it a day.


End file.
